A Breath of Life
by FerrumVigro
Summary: Rin was nothing to him. She was a mere day of his life. So fleeting and small. A breath. A beat of his heart.


_A Breath of Life_

_**Summary**: Rin was nothing to him. She was a mere day of his life. So fleeting and small. A breath. A beat of his heart._

_**Disclaimer:** Do. Not. Own_

_**A/N:** I've so much S/R files on my computer I have about three folders full of the stuff. I don't have a clue what I'm doing I'm that overloaded._

_Any Sesshomaru/Rin fan will find this familiar. So if it bores you, I understand! This is just my take on it._

_Here's another idea. Unbeta'd so excuse my mistakes!_

* * *

1) The Village-edge-In the Morning-

* * *

Sesshomaru meets her for the first time during sunrise in the searching rays of dawn, amongst the trees of a forest on a village edge. It is her who finds him to his already humbled pride as he recovers in a glade, bloodied and gasping for breath, deep within a healing slumber. It is her mucky scent which penetrates his subconscious, rousing him from sleep's hold. His hypersensitive senses whisper '_human__' _and he stirs. Injured as he is, his instincts surge through him with an inhale and he is pulled from the depths of recovery to consciousness. He wakes with a feral growl and snap only to be blinded by light as it filters through the swaying treetops.

A small gasp of surprise reaches his ears yet there is no overwhelming scent of fear or the heavy thud of fleeing footfall. When his vision clears, Sesshomaru realises that it is merely a child, a small human female who has stumbled upon him.

He is struck with an odd mixture of disbelief, irritation and anger as he watches from under half-lidded eyes as she hesitantly steps towards his prone form, tightly grasping something within her dirty palms.

He notices with dull dismay that her fingernails are broken and chipped, rimmed with filth that he can clearly smell.

As she moves closer, the clearer it gets and he wishes to be rid of her, of her reek and presence. He prepares to snap as much at her when she does the unthinkable; she bows low before him her knees hitting dirt and never taking her eyes from him, she pours a container of river-water over his face.

His breath leaves him with a snapping gasp. He does not inhale again for a while as his yoki slowly retreats to a shimmer and his anger fades to a clam flow. He merely stares, feeling quite at a loss; never before has one, demon or other, done such a thing to him. Yet there is no mocking edge to her gaze or curl to her lip, not even a wisp of fear or regret from her small form. There is only open, honest curiosity and awe at his being and he is surprised once more by the hint of concern and anxiety that flows free from her.

"Pathetic," Sesshomaru mentally scoffs and he inhales deeply, feeling the cool morning chill fill his lungs. He dismisses her with a turn of his head however she remains by his side, staring curiously and he continues to ignore her. Instead he chooses to focus on the pleasant sensation of icy cold water soaking into his heated skin, through layers of silk and fur, slowly trailing down his neck and along his shoulder to his healing wound. It wouldn't do much but it was pleasant on the fevered flesh.

He blinks and droplets flicker from his lashes to his cheeks. Still the girl watches, perplexed and silent. The water sinks into the folds of his silks, his mokomoko and the earth beneath him. The girl settles by his side, eyes wide as they trail over his form, coming to rest on his shoulder. She raises a hand and he snaps his eyes to her and growls _"Don't," _unsure and uncaring if the child can even understand.

The girl obeys but says nothing.

From his limited experience of youth in general, children tended to be loud and irritating with fleeting attention-spans; she will be gone soon.

Sesshomaru closes his eyes and exhales.

.

She comes again at dawn, crawling under branches with leaves in her matted hair.

She is a wild thing, scented with the sweetness of damp soil and the musk of old wood; she kneels before his resting form, a slip of a girl, a human with tangled brown hair and glassy brown eyes. She is small for her time. He judges from her thick fragrance of youth that she is little more than six summers and he can see she is uncared for. All tangled and dirty. He smells the lingering truth beneath her oddly pleasant wildness, her scent holds the reek of an unwashed human, layered in sweat and day-old dirt; her small body holds traces of fatigue and small touches of wear on her youth.

She is tired and weak which makes it all the more confusing when she persists on offering him food and unless aid despite his declining responses and growled warnings. Humans, in general, he had spent little to no time with during his many years as there was no need nor concern for them. But those he had come across over the years had been selfish and all-consuming; mere pathetic animals that fed and lived only to die.

The girl however, and that is what she is, a mere _girl_, is different and yet so very, terribly, _human _all at once. Dirty and carrying her days work on her being_. _It marks her plain brown kimono as it swishes between her short legs, torn and stained beyond repair.

Horribly and pathetically human yet she is different and he finds himself tolerating her.

To add to his discontentment; the girl does not feel a hint of fear or anxiety in his presence. Man, he has come to understand, will naturally feel unease and fear when he nears them with their instincts whispering _'predator'. _But the girl…no, she does not feel uneasy by his flaring yoki nor his dismissive, cold, nature. She does not alert the village men to his presence. She simply returns with food and water that she herself does not touch and stares at him in childlike awe and wonder.

He learns that she is mute, willingly or not he does not care to know, but she does not speak a word and communicates to him with actions and small gestures; a shake of the head, a gentle sigh or small hum.

Sesshomaru finds himself recovering from his encounter with Inuyasha and the _Wind Scar _in peace. It is easy to forget the girl when she sits so quietly and smells so sweetly of the forest and earth. The undertone of human goes ignored and he slowly rebuilds himself from his fall.

When she returns to him with her round face covered in bruises, carrying a blackened eye and a pathetic attempt of an offering Sesshomaru feels a hot fury at the sight and he lashes out at her out-stretched palms, scattering the dead rodents and scraps at her feet. It's pathetic. The whole _little _thing is pathetic! Barely able to stand and offering him mere filth off the forest floor! How dare she….how dare…how…why? Why did she continue to come? Why did she stay and stare? Why was she still looking at him with such open, honest eyes, he had never so much as offered her a kind glance. Why was she still offering what little she had?

Curiosity. He is curious. The child isn't quite normal to seek the attentions of a yokai and one such as himself at that although, he doubts she knows any of this. Too young. Too tired.

He wants her to leave, her disappointment sirs his curiosity and her quiet sigh stirs his heart. Without turning he prepares to growl at her to leave but instead what comes out is a question,

"What happened to your face?"

And he steals her with a glance of gold.

She seals him with a smile.

His recognition of her, of her injuries, are answered with a smile so prefect that it burns as strong as the morning sun around them, so bright he can almost feel its warmth, its image burnt into the back of his eyelids.

Afterwards, he ignores her as she settles by his side. He ignores the feelings stirring from deep within him as the sun drifts overhead.

He dismisses her that evening for the last time. He ignores her cheerful, childish wave, her overwhelming scent of happiness and contentment. He is satisfied in knowing that by the next sunrise he will be gone and she will remain, nothing but a meaningless memory of a slip of a girl with a sweet smile.

…

The second time he meets her, it is he who finds her as the sun breaks dawn, casting elongated shadows upon the forest floor. She lies still and silent near the middle of the small man-made path, in a pool of her own blood. Even then the forest still clings to her, lingering with the overpowering smell of wasted youth and decay, of wolves and death. The claw marks remain raw and ragged on her slim back; rustic red upon smooth bronze, turning soft skin rough, like tree bark, and the blood flowing from the tear on her neck has become thick, like sap.

He finds the image disturbing. She is a small mass of disgusting scents, a pitiful sight, even to him and he finds himself wondering why his heartbeat falters at the sight of her still form.

Why should he care? Does he care?

He remembers her simple smile and delight at his mere recognition. Her small form bowed before his own. Her sweet scent and innocent smile, her pure devotion and determination, her small sighs…her childish laughter tainted with exhaustion and yet so full of life.

Tenseiga pulses by his side. Under his fingertips she sings and whispers to him softly, asking to be drawn.

He feels the rising sun upon his face through the trees as it slowly wakes the world and he complies. He grasps her gently and draws her from her resting place by his side, her metal ringing, sighing in pleasure as she slides free from her holdings. With her whispering in his ear, ignoring Jaken's mummers, he knows exactly what to do and he brings her down, swiping the blade across the child's prone form, slicing through the Pall-bearers of hell and reclaiming her soul.

Returning Tenseiga to her bindings, he kneels to gather the girl's frail form into his remaining arm and he waits, listens and tastes the air. Slowly, life crawls back into her body and her heart pumps once, twice, begins and aims to never stop. He can hear the gush of warm blood under her dirtied skin and with a sigh, breath returns to her once more. A flicker and her eyes flutter open to gaze into his own.

Mucky brown meets gold and he feels bewildered that he can feel the girl's small chest rise and fall against his own, separated only by layers of silk.

Despite all this and it's effect on him, he does not contemplate her for long and with a blink he rises, resting her carefully on her feet. He turns and walks away with his mind buzzing, the passing forest a blur.

He feels powerful. Reborn, like the child.

Tenseiga hums on his hip, the girl follows and both grow warm and strong in the rays of dawn with each steady step.

* * *

_*Working working* I've half the next few chapters played out and then some so...it's getting there, I've the ending set for this for a long time._

_R&R^^_


End file.
